


27 years

by rhodee



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: First Meetings, Forehead Kisses, Friends to Lovers, Height Differences, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, M/M, MIT Era, Mutual Pining, POV James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Rhodey has braincells but he's actually very Oblivious tm, Time Skips, because they make my heart mush, i mean. up until they kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:49:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26930125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhodee/pseuds/rhodee
Summary: Jim makes it chaste. It's a goodbye kiss, not a damn love confession. He doesn't lean into it, doesn't hope that the kiss could be a few more inches lower,longer.
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Tony Stark
Series: Tumblr Drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1964980
Comments: 9
Kudos: 111
Collections: Marvel





	27 years

**Author's Note:**

> figured i might as well start posting my drabbles on ao3 before i procrastinate, _again_ 👀
> 
> also, the inspiration for this fic was my very recently discovered fact that don cheadle was shorter than rdj, and it had me thinking about how cheadle's rhodey must have gotten used to being the tall one at mit (because, you know, he was older by like three years) until suddenly one day _he's_ the short one and tiny tony was the tall one. to this day, i cannot stop thinking about this

Jim was 17 and anxious to his very _bones_ when he first met 15-year-old Tony Stark, seated in his – _their –_ dorm, looking like he all but belonged there. So _maybe_ he had stared at the tiny, _tiny_ boy for a second longer than what was conventional, taking in the khaki shorts and the obnoxiously red t-shirt that he was drowning in. To his luck, the boy - clearly used to being gawked at; he's a _Stark,_ after all – had been nice enough to diffuse the situation and gave Jim an out by bringing up something the guy two dorms over did. 

Two sentences in, Jim realized Tony Stark had a ridiculously foul mouth. 

~

Jim was 18 when he realized Tony – _Tones –_ stood at a height where Jim could just plant a kiss against his forehead without even crouching. It had been right after winter break – the longest that they had been apart – and Tony had wasted no time in throwing himself at Jim's arms and whatever the taller boy had been about to say was lost to a mouthful of unruly, brown hair. It was only when Tony shifted his head to look up at Jim, eyes bright and cheeks flushed, that Jim realized how easy it would be to lean forward and just– 

He doesn't. 

~

Jim was 19, counting down the days and practically vibrating with excitement to spend his first Christmas with Tony, when a single phone-call came through that ended with Tony looking up at Jim through horrified, red-rimmed eyes. Jim didn't ask, instead, pulled Tony into the tightest hug he could muster. _Forehead. Lips–_

He doesn't. 

Tony spent the night of December 16th, 1991 curling into Jim – crying into his sleeve, his chest, his collar – until he sniffled himself to sleep. 

~

Jim was 20 when he had to leave to serve his country, and it was the first time since he'd known Tony that he didn't know when he'd see the younger boy again. It was the unshakeable feeling of uncertainty that pushed him to do what he did. 

When he finally – _finally_ – kissed Tony's forehead, his lips were soft against Tony's skin, pressed an inch lower than he had expected, because sometime, _somehow,_ in the past year, Tony had grown. The kiss wasn't placed at the top of Tony's forehead, but lower, right at the center of his glabella. 

Jim makes it chaste. It's a goodbye kiss, not a damn love confession. He doesn't lean into it, doesn't hope that the kiss could be a few more inches lower, _longer._

He _can't._

~

Jim was 27 when he saw Tony next. He'd seen pictures, watched videos, thumbed through pages of articles whenever he'd gotten the chance, but nothing prepared him for the real deal. Tony – _Tones_ – stopped short when his eyes met Jim's, and in a split second, his face broke into the _biggest damn grin_ Jim had ever seen on the boy's – _man's –_ face. 

"Rhodey!" Tony had exclaimed, and proceeded to knock all the air out of Jim's chest at the impact of Tony launching himself at Jim. It was exactly like the time Jim returned after winter break that one time, except–

_Except._

There was no mouthful of hair. It was Tony's _cheek_ pressed against his own, because Tony – _Tones; his Tones –_ had _grown_. 

Tony realized it the same moment Jim did, because he pulled apart and stared at Jim, eyes shining a brilliant brown and levelled with Jim's– and _no–_ Tony hadn't just _grown_ , Tony was _taller than Jim_. 

"Holy shit," Tony breathed out. Grinned. Jim can't help but think about how it's no longer forehead-lips but _lips-lips._ "You're _short_."

"Don't get too excited," Jim warned behind a smile before he pulled Tony in for another hug, the latter easily obliging. Jim breathed him in – cheek against cheek, chest against chest – because _seven years_ , and he was _finally_ home. And it wasn't a place. 

_Don't get too excited,_ he repeated to himself. 

Jim was 40 and _breaking into a sprint_ across the desert because Tony was _there_ , Tony was _alive_ and holding up a damn _peace_ sign after being presumed dead for the past _three months_ and– 

"Next time you ride with me, okay?" Jim's voice cracked with each syllable, and Tony – _alive, he's alive –_ bruised and bleeding and covered in dirt, laughed and allowed Jim to pull him into a hug. 

Jim was 44 when Tony dragged him down to his workshop, calloused fingers wrapped around his wrist and _tugging and tugging_ , to show him the updated model of the War Machine armor. Jim could only stare in awe as holograms flitted across his vision, detailing every inch of the armor and the weapons embedded in it, and when Tony turned to him, standing so _close_ and practically _vibrating_ with excitement for Jim’s feedback, the words were lost in his throat. He hadn’t realized he was staring at Tony until the latter broke the silence. 

“I can’t figure out if you’re going to hug me or kiss me,” Tony said – _jesus, how easily he said it_ – and Jim just blinked. Jim thought he might have added a stupid-sounding “what?” 

“You heard me.” Tony stared at him – _expectant,_ almost _–_ as if Jim should be far from having any qualms about it. A careless hand gestured to the holograms that illuminated the space around them in a soft blue. "Think I’m due my token of appreciation.” 

“Never got _my_ token of appreciation when I had to pull your scrawny ass from a puddle of your own puke–” Jim lightly commented under his breath, eyes flitting towards the War Machine armor.

“Hey–!” There was a soft shove at his side. 

“ _Or_ when we had to share my bed for an entire month after you kept spilling _coffee_ all over yours–”

“That was on purpose, actually–” Tony tipped his head thoughtfully. 

“Or when I found you in the middle of a goddamn desert after _three_ –” Jim stopped. Turned, and blinked. “Wait, _what?”_

Tony let out an overly dramatic sigh. Dark eyes met Jim’s own.

“Rhodey,” Tony started, and they’re so _close,_ their faces _so close_ and Jim has to lift his chin _ever so slightly_ and now they’re _aligned_ and it’s _lips-lips_ and Tony _was still talking._ “I’m going to kiss you now.” 

And he _does_. 

**Author's Note:**

> god i simp so hard over them, it's not even funny. i'm genuinely concerned on my expectations of love.


End file.
